


Drunken Confessions

by analyticalAuthor



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-10-14 07:46:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10532022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/analyticalAuthor/pseuds/analyticalAuthor
Summary: You find EoWells at a bar, then you offer to drive him home. He invites you in, and you haven't the heart to say no.





	1. Drunken Confessions

Stepping into the bar, you noticed a very familiar man sitting in a wheelchair. Dr. Harrison Wells. As you walked over to him, you smiled, “Is this seat taken?”

He looked over at you and returned your smile, “It is now. Have a seat.”

You took a seat across from him, “So, what brings you here?” Dr. Wells had been your boss for a few years now, but you’d never actually seen him outside STAR Labs, apart from a few events from time to time. It was kind of refreshing to see him in public.

“Usually, I drink alone at home. Tonight, I wanted a change of scenery. I was starting to miss the solitude of my house until, of course, you showed up.”

“No one to drink with?”

“Well, after the particle accelerator explosion, not many people want to drink with me.”

“Ah,” you nodded, “Well, if you ever want company, I’m always willing.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I think I’m about to call it a night, Miss (Y/N).”

“Let me take you home, then. I haven’t had anything to drink yet. I can drive you,” you offered.

He considered that for a moment before nodding, “All right. Lead the way.”

You got up and walked out, periodically checking behind you to make sure Dr. Wells was still following you. When you got to your car, you helped him out of the wheelchair and into the passenger seat, though he supported most of his own weight with his arms, which you took a moment to admire. Putting the wheelchair in the back, you got in and followed his directions to get to his house.

When you got there, you helped Dr. Wells out and back into the wheelchair. Instead of heading to the door, he turned to face you, “Would you like to come in? I assume you didn’t come to the bar looking for me. I have some alcohol stashed away.”

Against your better judgement, you said, “Sure.” The two of you went inside, and you looked around. It was such a fancy house, and you couldn’t help but stare.

“Here,” came Dr. Wells’ voice after a few moments. You looked over to see him sitting next to you, a glass in his hand. Thanking him, you took it and downed the contents.

Several drinks and about half an hour later, you found yourself sitting on his couch, Dr. Wells sitting beside you. You looked at his hair. It looked so fluffy, and you couldn’t resist reaching out and carding a hand through it. He seemed almost to lean into your touch. The alcohol in your system removing your filter, you grinned, “You’re really cute. You know that?”

“I…” Before Dr. Wells could finish his thought, you found yourself kissing him, running your fingers through his soft hair.

The next morning, you woke up in a very comfortable bed, fully clothed, except for your shoes. Rolling over with every intention of going back to sleep, you saw Dr. Wells lying on his back, his eyes shut. You suddenly remembered kissing him last night, and you felt your face get hot, embarrassed. He was cute, though. You yawned and sat up, rubbing your eyes.

“Good morning,” he said, startling you. You thought he was asleep.

You looked at him, “Morning, Dr. Wells.”

“Please, call me Harrison.”

You chewed your lower lip, “Okay. Good morning, Harrison. So, um, what exactly happened last night? After we…”

“After we kissed?” he asked. You blushed, but nodded. “You passed out, so I brought you in here. Then, I got in bed, too. Don’t worry, we didn’t do anything. I would never take advantage of you like that.”

You smiled awkwardly at him, “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Harrison swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Here, let me help,” you walked around the bed and helped him into his chair.

“Thanks,” he said. He wheeled out of the room, and you followed him. He turned to face you, laughing, “I’m going to the bathroom, I don’t think you want to follow me in there.”

“Right.” As you awaited his return, you leaned awkwardly against the wall. When he came out, he looked at you and gestured for you to follow. You did, and he lead you back into the living room, where he transferred himself from the wheelchair to the couch and patted the seat beside him.

“So,” he began, “Tell me about last night.”

“What about it?”

“The kiss.”

“Well, I think you’re better suited to talk about that than I, I was drunk. I don’t remember much about it at all,” you said. You were nervous, unsure of where that left things between the two of you. It was true that you were attracted to him, but you didn’t want things to be weird if he didn’t feel the same way.

“Such a shame. It was good. Maybe you’d like me to refresh your memory,” he offered, smirking. Apparently, he did. You grinned and nodded, and then he pulled you to him, pressing his lips to yours and guiding your hand to his mess of hair.

As his hand ventured down to your waist, you broke the kiss, “I don’t quite recall that.”

“Sorry,” he started to withdraw his hand, but you captured it in yours and moved it back.

“Don’t be.”

*** 

A few weeks passed, and you had all but moved in with Harrison Wells. Every morning, you would drive him to STAR Labs. Every night, you would drive him home. Most nights, you would stay with him, and the two of you would talk or watch TV or do more intimate things. Some nights, you would go home. You would always think of him as you lay in bed, alone, clutching a pillow. You would always drive to his house to pick him up on mornings after you did not stay with him.

This morning, you did not drive to his house. You did not even get out of bed, except to go to the bathroom, only to crawl back into bed. Your phone buzzed on the bedside table, but you simply rolled over and tried to sleep. It wasn’t until you heard the doorbell that you gave up. You checked your phone. There was a missed call, a voice mail, and a few texts. All from Harrison.

You checked the voice mail first. “Hey, (Y/N), where are you? It’s an hour later than you usually arrive, and I’m beginning to worry… Call me back, all right?” You smiled weakly at the sound of his voice. The texts had the same theme, except the last one which said, “I’m outside.”

You texted him back: “Sorry”

Harrison: “That’s okay. Come let me in?”

You: “There’s a key in one of the larger rocks by the door.”

A few moments passed, then he was there beside your bed, a rock sitting in his lap. He looked at you and said nothing. You looked at him and said nothing. After a few moments, he stopped saying nothing and said something, “Are you okay.”

“Yeah,” you said. You paused, and added, “Just tired.”

“Maybe you should take the day off,” Harrison said, “I don’t think your boss will mind.”

You laughed, and so did he. You nodded, “Okay. But only if you take the day off, too.”

Slowly, he nodded, then he wheeled over to the other side of your bed and got in, his shoes falling to the floor with a couple soft thuds as he took them off. He snaked an arm around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder and looking down at your face. You turned slightly, to see him better, and smiled at him.

“Thank you,” you said, still smiling.

“Any time,” he said, smiling back. And he meant it. Though you didn’t know it, he realized then that he would do anything for you, whenever you needed it. He loved you, though he didn’t think he should say it just yet. If he said it, it would make it real. Then he would have to choose between being with you and going home, and he wasn’t ready for that.

You reached up, running your fingers through his hair, then you planted a kiss on his cheek before allowing yourself to fall back to the pillow. He pulled the covers over the two of you and hugged you against his chest, kissing the top of your head as he lay there with you.


	2. Sober Confessions

“Go away,” you batted the air next to you.

“You wish getting rid of me was that easy,” Harrison chuckled, grabbing your arm to stop your wild swinging.

You turned to face him, “You know what I meant.” Pulling your arm free and rolling back over, you added, “I don’t want to get up.”

But you got up, and the two of you went to STAR Labs to work. Nothing overly exciting happened that day. A couple robberies, and a new meta, who Barry swiftly defeated. When the day was over, the others left. You did not leave. You stayed behind with Harrison, who was busy working on something at his computer. After a few minutes, he turned to face you but said nothing.

You waited, staring back at him curiously. Just when you were about to look away and find something else to do, he finally spoke, “Hey, (Y/N)?”

“Yes?”

“I…” he paused for a long time, “I need to tell you something. Show you something.” He had made his choice. Before he met you, between going back home and staying in this infernal, primitive time period, he would always have chosen going home. But if staying here meant being with you, he would do it.

“Okay,” you waited for him to continue.

He didn’t continue. Instead, he pushed off the arms of his wheelchair and stood up. He stood up. You rushed over to him to make sure you could catch him if he fell. Of course, he didn’t fall. After a moment, you took a step back.

“You can walk? Since when?”

“Most of my life.”

You narrowed your eyes, “Why have you been pretending you can’t walk?”

Another pause, longer this time, “I’m the Man in Yellow. I’m the Reverse-Flash.”

“You killed Barry’s mother,” You stilled, suddenly terrified of the man before you, the man you felt so safe around this morning. You backed away slowly, as if he was a wild animal and any sudden movement would spur him into action.

“Yes,” was all he said. You wished he said more. You wished he tried to deny it, or at least offered some form of explanation. But he didn’t. He just looked at you, waiting for you to say something.

So, you did, “Why?”

He said nothing, instead, he extended a hand, “Come with me.”

You didn’t want to, but you couldn’t help yourself. Curiosity got the better of you, and you took his hand. He picked you up and started running. He was so fast, and instinctively, you clung to his chest, your arms wrapping tightly around his torso, your face pressed against his shoulder. At first, you didn’t realize you’d stopped. He kept holding you, setting you down only once you’d released him.

Looking around, you saw you were back at his house. He’d set you down on the couch. He sat down beside you and started to explain himself. He explained everything: killing Nora, getting stuck in the past (your present), killing the real Harrison Wells, taking over his life and building the particle accelerator. He told you when he was born, that he hated Barry, even how they’d run out of cows in the future.

“There’s one thing you didn’t tell me. If you killed the real Harrison Wells… who are you?”

“My name is Eobard Thawne.”

“What’s stopping me from telling the others? Are you going to kill me?”

Harrison – or Eobard – shook his head, “Nothing is stopping you, and I’m not going to kill you.”

“Then why are you telling me all this?”

Harrison looked in your eyes and sighed heavily, “Because I love you.” He looked away. He’d said it. He made it real. Harrison stood up and left the room, leaving you sitting in his living room, alone.

There was a lot of new information to take in, and you didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know what to think. You loved the man you’d spent all those nights with, the man who came to take care of you when you were sick or tired, the man you’d taken care of when you weren’t sick. But was he still that man? Was that a lie, too? You sighed, burying your face in your hands. You didn’t know what to do.

Another thought occurred to you: if he didn’t mean it when he said he loved you, why would he tell you his darkest secrets? Would he actually let you tell them? You stood from the couch and went to the bedroom, where you found him staring up at the ceiling. When he heard you come in, he looked at you. You stood there for a minute in silence.

Finally, you said, “I’m going to go tell the team. Where are my car keys?”

“It’s almost midnight. You can tell them in the morning.”

“Can I?”

He raised an eyebrow, “What?”

“Can I tell them tomorrow? Will it matter? Will you still be here?” You had so many questions.

“(Y/N), I meant everything I said. I love you. If you want me to be here, I’ll be here.”

You sighed heavily, scratching the back of your neck. “Eobard,” you said, though you knew you already had his full attention, “I think we should break up.” A sharp intake of breath and a short nod were his response. He flopped over, looking at the ceiling once more. You left the room, only to remember that your car was still at STAR Labs. You peeked back in, “Um… Can you take me back to my car?”

He sat up, “Right, sorry.” He walked over to you, and you stilled, still afraid of him. Harrison lifted you and sped to STAR Labs, placing you in the driver’s seat and handing you your keys.

“Thanks,” you said awkwardly. He sped away, and you sat in the car for a moment, clutching the wheel and staring out the window before starting the car and driving home.

 

 

The next morning, you elected not to go to work. You didn’t enjoy awkward situations, and being alone with him for any length of time would be incredibly awkward. You didn’t go the next day, either. Or the next. About a week later, Cisco paid you a visit, pounding on the door until you let him in.

“Where have you been?” he said the moment the door opened.

You shrugged, “Just haven’t felt like going.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” you lied.

“Fine,” Cisco stepped in, grabbing your hand and pulling you to the sofa. When you sat down, he went straight for your DVD collection and put your favorite movie in before sitting down beside you and pressing play.

You smiled weakly. Cisco always did know how to cheer you up. “Thank you, Cisco,” you said, leaning over and resting your head on his shoulder.

“No problem,” he leaned back against the couch, getting more comfortable. After you’d finished the movie, he moved to get up. You stopped him. He looked at you, “What’s up?”

You hesitated, “Dr. Wells and I broke up.”

“You broke up? You were together?” Cisco asked.

“You didn’t think anything of us showing up together every day?”

“I didn’t really think about it,” he pulled you into a hug, “That sucks.”

You shrugged, “It’s fine.” It was not fine.

“Great, so you’re coming back to work tomorrow?”

You considered it. Maybe it would be okay. You nodded, “Sure. But don’t leave me alone with him.”

He nodded, “You got it.” Then he changed the DVDs, and you continued watching until it got dark, and he went home.

The next day, Cisco stayed close to you. Harrison seemed to take notice, watching Cisco intently, almost glaring when he got too close to you. Your now-ex-boyfriend was a lot less scary when there were other people in the room, and when there were friends nearby. He noticed you staring, and you noticed his eyes soften before he quickly looked away. It was like that a while before you warmed up to him again, not sticking quite as closely to the others, but always making sure someone else was in the room.

One night, though, you had to stay late to finish something you were working on. Cisco had other obligations, so he didn’t stay with you. Just as you finished your work, you heard familiar mechanical whirring behind you. It was quiet, but so was the lab. It stopped, and you turned to see Harrison sitting there, so close that you bumped his knees with yours when the chair spun around.

“Sorry,” he said, though you were technically the one who hit him.

“It’s fine,” you said, scooting your chair back so you weren’t touching.

He said nothing more for several seconds, so you stood to leave. He caught your hand, causing you to jump. He frowned, “I’m not going to hurt you. I still love you. If you ever need me, you can always call.”


End file.
